


Daily Lives of Azeroth's Heroes

by Ardene



Category: World of Warcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardene/pseuds/Ardene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't kill the Lich King or beat Deathwing in a knife fight every day. Sometimes you just have to take a day off, relax, start an arena team, fight the demons possessing your hair, or go to a family reunion. These are the stories of your everyday heroes simply living their lives in this world called Azeroth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Team Bad Name

“So, kid… you know how to fight?”  
“No, Mr. Gertzert, I don’t… that’s how my parents died. In the war.”  
A troll towered over a young orc orphan, sizing him up. “Fighting is not something to fear. Come with me, I’ll show you what it’s like to fight for da horde.”  
“But Mr. Gertzert, sir, I don’t want to fight…”  
Gertzert ignored the child’s protests, pulling him along by the hand through the streets of Orgrimmar. All the while the child protested, saying “I don’t think this is safe, where are we going, I think I should tell the matron,” all which fell on deaf ears.  
As they walked they heard what sounded like arguing in the distance, the disgruntled voice of an old blood elf arguing with another orphan.  
“Yes! To destroy the alliance is the duty and right of every member of the horde! ‘Talking things through’ won’t get you anywhere in life! If we are not around to kill the alliance, then who, little orphan boy? Then who?” the man stated, throwing his arms around for emphasis.  
“Ayyy, you gonna kill some alliance today?” Gertzert asked, approaching him.  
“Ah yes, good troll, this child needs to learn what it truly means to be horde. I’m glad that a thing like Children’s Week exists. Children have been raised without good role models.”  
“I get ya. I was thinking of killing some alliance myself. What you think?”  
“I think some company would be nice. It’s always good to know you have at least one competent ally in battle. Well, assuming you are competent, that is.”  
Gertzert laughed heartily. “Don’t worry, I totally know what I’m doing. I’m Gertzert. Who you be?”  
“Borst,” the man replied, extending a hand. “Mistweaver monk. I may not get to feel the blood of the alliance flow between my fingers, but I honestly can’t trust a job as important as healing to just anyone.”  
“I’m a balance druid, don’t worry I’ll kill your share of alliance for ya man.” Gertzert fistbumped Borst’s open palm. “Welcome to da team.”  
“That is an… interesting name you have there, Gertzert. I’ve never heard anything quite like it.”  
“I know. Borst is pretty wicked too… hey, we should start an arena team! Call ourselves “Team Badass Name!”  
Borst glanced at Gertzert skeptically. “We have not yet stood back to back in battle. We must get to know each other before making future plans.”  
“I hear ya. Hey kid, you ready to become a man?”  
“No,” the orphan said quietly. No one heard but the wind.  
\-----  
“Now, we are here to teach the children. I have come up with a few things that I think will give them a good understanding of how warfare works. In the Alterac Valley, they must learn how to take over towers and capture them for our own. In Arathi Basin, the same sort of thing: learn how to take over resources so they can understand how they can help our cause. In Eye of the Storm, they should witness us capturing the flag, symbolising ownershp in order to bring victory to our team. And here, in Warsong Gulch after the battle has started, we should show them that we can snatch victory out of the hands of our enemies. Questions?” Borst asked, surveying the three members of his party sat in front of him.  
“Why are we capturing flags? Is this a game? Are you killing alliance just for fun?” one of the orphans asked.  
“Next question,” Borst said, answering nothing.  
“Nah, sounds good. Oh hey, I think we’re almost ready,” Gertzert said, looking over to their other teammates. “Hey bro, what they call you?” he called to a mage setting out a table and offering food to people.  
“Oh hi dude. The name’s Lêgìón. This is my friend Chickenbutt, and that over there is Bread,” the mage replied.  
“Sorry we asked,” Borst said with pained expression on his face. He turned to Gertzert and whispered “seriously does everyone here hate their children?”  
“Guys we’re starting!” an orc warlock previously identified as Bread shouted.  
“We still don’t have any healthstones,” a blood elf priest said haughtily.  
“Can we have might?” another teammate shouted.  
“Go!” Bread yelled and dashed out of the holding room. The rest of the team shrugged and followed, except for a paladin who looked to be asleep. The orphans struggled to keep up with Borst and Gertzert, running as fast as their legs would carry them.  
“I really don’t think the matron would like this,” one shouted to the other.  
“Shut up!” Borst yelled back.  
Borst and Gertzert summoned their mounts, Gertzert hopping onto a Venomhide Ravasaur while Borst leapt onto a majestic hawkstrider. The orphans began to lag, pushing forward only out of fear of being left alone. Gertzert nodded to Borst, who was gesturing towards the eastern entrance to the alliance keep. Together they ran up the hill, making their way into the keep. They paused at the ledge on the upper floor, looking down at the flag. “I will take it,” Gertzert said, morphing into cat form and gracefully leaping down to the floor.  
“Godspeed, good troll,” Borst replied, jumping down beside him.  
Just as Gertzert was about to pick up the flag, they heard someone yell “Psyche!” and out of seemingly nowhere came a rogue, snatching it from his grasp.  
“Now who the everloving hell are you?” Borst yelled, jumping back slightly.  
The rogue did not reply, and instead began to sprint out of the keep. The two orphans finally made their way inside, huffing heavily, but Gertzert and Borst did not notice, and instead took off after the rogue. Once they reached the exit Gertzert yelled “hop on,” and turned into a stag, which Borst took no hesitation in mounting. Together they dashed out, trying to catch up to the rogue.  
“There he is!” Borst yelled, pointing at him running down the centre of the field.  
“Why is he running down the middle?” Gertzert yelled back. “There’s alliance everywhere!”  
“Get close so I can heal him!” Borst yelled back, but it was too late. The rogue leapt into the middle of the group, fighting all the alliance around him. With no healer nearby he did not last long.  
“Rest in peace brave fighter,” Gertzert said shaking his head. They heard cheering behind them, and looked to see the horde flag raised above the alliance keep, burning in the wind.  
“Blast it all!” Borst shouted. “One of our flags is gone… we only have two left. The new order was late and won’t be in until Tuesday. If they burn our other two, then they truly will have won.”  
“Not if we have anything to do with it, friend. Together we will win this. Have faith.” The two of them turned around, heading back to the alliance keep. “I will scout out the place, wait outside for me,” Gertzert said, turning into a cat and prowling through the entrance. There was no on in sight. “Perfect…” he muttered, breaking out of his stealth to quickly snatch the flag.  
Suddenly, two druids and three rogues emerged from the shadows, killing him on the spot.  
Gertzert opened his eyes, the world in a black and white monochrome around him. He turned to the spirit healer and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Hey good looking.” She huffed and turned away, discreetly moving slightly away and adding 15 seconds to the resurrection timer.  
“Gertzert, fellow, what happened?” a familiar voice said from behind him.  
“Borst! Got ganked by druids and rogues… it was rough, man.”  
“Same here… about two rogues, a druid, and two hunters snuck up on me, must have killed me just before you,” Borst replied, shaking his head.  
“So the other team, then, from what I’ve seen… four rogues, two druids, and two hunters?”  
“I saw a paladin and a priest healing earlier, think they were disc.”  
“Ouch.”  
They sat in silence for a moment.  
“I think we have a holy priest, that sleeping paladin, that rogue who keep messing things up, that mage and warlock have been fighting in the middle the entire time, that death knight screaming in the middle about how we all suck, two hunters who are obviously wearing all gear acquired from dungeons and quests, and the two of us,” Borst said, taking inventory of their team.  
“Ouch,” was Gertzert’s only reply before the spirit healer decided to release them back to combat. He felt a tug on his shirt and looked down.  
“Oh Mr. Gertzert, I was so scared, I saw you both get killed, I thought they would kill us too, oh I am so-” the orphan blubbered, tears falling down his face.  
“Shut up kid we’re fine. Let’s go get that flag,” Gertzert replied, yanking the kid by the shirt and pulling him towards the gnome rogue carrying their flag towards the alliance base.  
“Alright, we need a battle plan,” Borst shouted from alongside him.  
“I dunno, kill him?” Gertzert asked.  
“Well THAT is obvious. Hey, root him! He’s way too fast.”  
“On it,” Gertzert said, casting entangling roots on him. He was slightly off, and only managed to trip him with one of the roots.  
“Oof!” the gnome shouted as he faceplanted.  
The two of them looked at each other briefly before shouting, “GET HIM!”  
Soon the poor gnome had a moonkin and a monk standing over him, repeatedly punching him in the face. While they were distracted the mage from their team ran up, stared at the scene in confusion for a minute, before shrugging, grabbing the flag, and running back to the base with it.  
“Hey, we were gonna return that! We gotta show our kids how to be heroes!” Gertzert yelled after him, but by the time he noticed the mage was too far gone to hear him.  
He shrugged and went back to punching the gnome with Borst. They could get it next time.  
\-----  
“Do you remember what you said when we first met, Gertzert? About starting an arena team?” Borst asked as the lounged in an Orgrimmar inn, relaxing after their hard fought battles.  
“Yeah I do, Borst. You wanna?” Gertzert replied, putting some silver on the table to pay for his moonberry juice.  
“I think, yes, I do. We work well together, and I really think we can go far.”  
“Shall I register the name? Remember?”  
“Yes, I do remember. ‘Team Badass Name’. I like it. As you will.”  
Gertzert nodded at Borst and got up, making his way to the arena registration.  
“Dabu,” an orc greeted him.  
“Hey there. We want to make a team.”  
“Names?”  
“Borst and Gertzert.”  
“Classes?”  
“Mistweaver monk and balance druid.”  
“Team name?”  
“Team Badass Name.”  
At that the orc looked up from her registration form. “I’m sorry, but that name is deemed inappropriate. We do not allow the use of vulgar words in team names.”  
“What part be bad?”  
“Well, you can’t say ass.”  
“So just remove the vulgar part and it’s good?”  
“Yes, I suppose it would be.”  
“So just remove ‘ass’ from the name.  
“Are you certain?”  
“Yeah, you heard me.”  
The orc once again gave him a funny look, but did as she was told. “Alright, we’re finished. These papers are for you, keep them in a safe place. One is for you, the other is for your partner. We hope to see you soon.”  
Gertzert thanked the orc and went to find Borst, who was in the auction house browsing through the available auctions.  
“Done. You and me, we’re a team!”  
Borst smiled at him. “Thank you Gertzert. I will admit, I had my doubts about you, but after this journey together I think I have found a very valuable ally. I look forward to fighting alongside you, not only in our quest to slaughter the alliance, but also in our quest to slaughter the horde too, as long as they are not on our side. Together, much blood will be shed.”  
“So much blood,” Gertzert agreed.  
“Oh, come here you moron!” Borst shouted, pulling Gertzert into a big hug. “Take care, until we meet again.”  
“Same to you.”  
The two of them shook hands with promises to meet very soon to start their arena career. Gertzert gave Borst his registration paper and waved farewell, turning into a bat and flying away into the sunset, leaving Borst alone. Borst exited the auction house, slowly walking the streets of Orgrimmar. “What a strange fellow,” he muttered fondly to no one in particular. He walked along the drag, waving at the orphan who had accompanied him, who drew back slightly in fear. “Just think, him and me against the world. Team Badass Name.”  
He took a moment to glance at the registration form, and suddenly his eyes narrowed.  
“Wait, why does this say ‘Team Bad Name’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister encouraged me to get back into writing so I wrote these stories to make us laugh. My other sister wanted to read them too, so she asked me to post them here. I hope others can read about my characters and their silly adventures and find some sort of enjoyment in them too :)
> 
> This one was inspired by children's week. My sister and I had two characters in close to the same bracket, so I levelled Gertzert up so he could join Borst to get the School of Hard Knocks achievement. They also both happened to be characters whose names we got from the random name generator and we chose the names because they made us laugh. Thus "Team Bad Name" was born.


	2. Vorona Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the most skilled of assassins can make mistakes. What happens when a not-so-skilled assassin makes a blunder beyond what can be fixed? In some cases, the result might be exactly what you need.

At one end of the inn sat a blood elf, elegantly running his fingers over a lute. A lush melody tinkled through the air as his hands leapt over the strings. The fire in the hearth seemed to move to the beat, tiny sparks sizzling up then dying in the air, drifting back down gracefully as if in dance. His foot gently tapped out the rhythm, the soft leather sole of his shoe making a soft “thud, thud thud” as his toes came in contact with the polished wooden floor. A strand of long blond hair began to drift into his face as he played, and a gentle puff of air from his lips blew it back into place. The melody soared through the air, coming in waves of quiet and loud, fast and slow, electric and lethargic.   
At the other end of the inn sat a young goblin rogue, her hands gripping a tankard of ale as if she were trying to strangle it. She gently swayed in her seat, not to the music but because of the many empty tankards surrounding her, suggesting that she should have stopped long ago. A clump of hair fell into her face, and after trying to wiggle it out of the way with her nose she eventually just let it be. She took a last long drag from her ale before thumping the empty glass on the table. Her gaze wandered over to the elf with the lute, and when finally his eyes roamed to her, she shouted “Enough of that garbage, play some Elite Tauren Chieftain! I wanna do some karaoke!”  
The elf furiously hammered out the last few notes of his song before stopping to lower his lute and glare at her. “You ask me this every time I come here. I work here three days a week giving concerts, and you are almost always here, drinking enough for four dwarves, and you ALWAYS ask me to play Elite Tauren Chieftain. Why? Am I not good enough for you? Do you hate my music, is that it? Is it me that you hate? What do you want from me?!”  
“I want Elite Tauren Chieftain,” she slurred back.  
“Okay, you know what, girl, if I play you an Elite Tauren Chieftain song, will you give me ONE day of peace?”  
“Honey I’ll give you anything you want,” she replied, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.  
“Uuugh, I did not need that,” he grimaced. Rolling up his sleeves, the elf quickly adjusted some pegs on his lute, making sure everything was in tune. Sighing, he began into the opening rift of “Rogues do it from Behind”.  
“Yeah I love this one!” the goblin shouted, immediately standing up on a table. She began to sing:  
I love to one-shot mages  
I live to two-shot priests  
When I see ya  
I’ll PVP ya  
Spankin’ noobs, that’s my favourite cheese  
The patrons in the tavern grimaced, some trying to smile politely, others groaning and covering their ears, some outright leaving the building. The goblin built up with volume and intensity until the song finally came to its close. After the final note was sung, she yelled to the remaining patrons, “The name’s Vorona, and don’t you forget it!”   
With that, she immediately passed out on the table.  
\-----  
“The details are on this paper. Read it and destroy it.”  
“Sure thing, boss!”   
Vorona took a rolled up parchment from an orc, a hood covering his face. Two blades sat at his hips, matching those on Vorona’s. She wore dark leather, intending to be light and flexible and able to help her blend in with her surroundings. She gave a salute to the orc before turning away, throwing a cloak over her head to cover her bright blue hair. She unrolled the parchment, reading the details of her mission.  
N: Blissa Silverbomb  
S: Female  
R: Gnome  
A: ~35  
O: engineer  
Bright hair dyed blue, usually in two buns  
Green eyes  
Head engineer, responsible for developing deadly weaponry used against the horde  
Vorona read on, reading the details of her location, reported sightings, and other characteristics to help her identify her target. Spies had determined that she would be in Ratchet for the weekend. While in neutral territory would be her time to strike. She looked to the sky, and determining that she should be able to make it before nightfall, hopped on to her trusty trike and rode into the scorching Durotar air. This should be a piece of cake.  
\-----  
The next night Vorona returned to her favourite inn 8000 gold richer. She gave a wave to the bard of the night, the blood elf once again, who returned her gaze with a gagging motion.   
She began walking towards her usual table, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw someone else sitting in her spot.  
“Hey, bub, move it!” She shouted, approaching the figure. She noticed that he was a blood elf, probably a monk by the looks of it.   
“Hmmm?” He asked, glancing up at her, not too kindly.  
“I said MOVE IT! You’re in my spot,” She repeated, returning his glare.   
“No one owns this seat,” he replied, rolling his eyes and returning to his ale.  
“Look, I sit here all the time! I’ve basically claimed it, heck I basically own it! Look you can sit over there, just move it buddy, alright?”  
“Me sit over there? Why don’t YOU sit over there? I’m quite comfortable to be honest.”  
“I don’t care how comfortable you are, I just want my damn seat! Look I’m way too sober for this, just move!” She grabbed him by the ponytail, trying to drag him out of the chair.  
“Oww, you monster! Why you-” the blood elf stood up, glaring down at her. “Do you want to fight me? I’ll fight you.”  
“Bring it on!” Vorona shouted, lunging at him, teeth bared. Soon they were a messy ball of arms and legs crashing everywhere. Somewhere around them a table splintered and a mug shattered. The music and chatter stopped as all the patrons stared at the two of them, mouths wide open.   
“Go back to pruning your eyebrows, sissy boy!”  
“You’re the one who needs the eyebrow pruning, cretin!”  
“You’re ugly!”  
“You smell weird!”  
The two of them continued to shout insults at each other. At one point the innkeeper’s assistant tried to break them up, but after suffering a fist to the face ran to find a guard. The fighting continued until suddenly there was a loud bang and the room filled with smoke.   
Coughing, all the patrons filed out of the inn, trying to get a breath of clean air. Eventually Vorona and the elf staggered out behind them.  
“What was that?” the elf asked.  
“I think it was my smoke bomb, you must have hit it in our scuffle,” Vorona answered.  
“Do I smell… freshly baked cookies?” the elf asked, scrunching his nose up in confusion.  
“Yeah, you know how you get that gross smell when you set off smoke bombs, and it’s so bad you like don’t even want to set them off? I fixed that problem, by making them smell good! Got them in cherry, blueberry, cookie, mint, and vanilla flavours!”  
“That is… actually impressive. I never realised you were a fellow engineer. I’m Borst by the way,” he said, extending his hand.  
“Vorona, nice to meet you. And by all means, if you’re a fellow engineer then I’ll totally show you how to make them. I can show you my prototype for, get this, a fireworks dispenser on WHEELS. It follows you around for every victory!”  
“And oh, Vorona, you will NOT believe these new bombs I just developed. Okay, so you know how when you heat up thorium too much-”  
The two of them began to walk away, leaving the bar behind, discussing engineering and their inventions. The innkeeper’s assistant arrived too late, and by the time the guard was present to do something they were long gone.  
\-----  
“Give me two of the strongest you got! One for me and one for my friend!” Vorona shouted, slamming 10 gold pieces onto the table.  
“Thank you,” Borst said to her. “I’ll treat you to the next round.”  
The music in the background faltered, causing Vorona to look up. “Hey there!” she said to the musician, waggling her eyebrows.  
“Oh god, you’re never here, what are you doing here?” the blood elf bard from the previous night asked, appalled.   
“I got banned from The Iron Boar for life, so this inn is my new hideout,” she shrugged.  
“Remind me to resign here,” the bard spat, starting a new song.  
“Not on good terms?” Borst asked, cocking an eyebrow. The innkeeper placed two large mugs on the table.  
“Sort of,” she said with a sheepish shrug.  
“What’s your story anyways?”   
They took a moment to drink their ale, then Vorona gave yet another shrug. “You know… I used to be the big cheese in a company, Deathwing destroyed my home, moved to Durotar, kind of got depressed, spent a lot of time chasing the Elite Tauren Chieftain. They’re not on tour right now so I’m stuck here, working on engineering and assassination to pay the bills. Wrecking bars and making enemies in the process.” She paused for a minute before slowly confessing, “you know, I kinda wanna leave this life behind.”   
“It’s never too late to start,” Borst said, nodding sagely.   
“But it’s hard, you know?” Vorona responded. “It’s hard leaving everything you know.”  
“Then take a day, drink to your heart’s content, and tomorrow can be the time for change. For now I do believe we have a strapping young bard to terrorise.”  
“I like the way you think.”  
The two of them clinked their mugs together in a sort of toast, downing their ale in one gulp before planning their devious plan of annoyance.  
\-----  
Vorona rode through the snowy plains of Frostfire Ridge on her Frostwolf Howler, trying her best to blend in with her surroundings. She was on a mission of great importance.  
Unfortunately, she was also still drunk from the previous night of drinking. Her three hours of sleep were not enough to sober her up.  
She went over the details in her head again. A gnome with dyed blue hair kept in pigtails spying around Frostfire Ridge, danger to the horde, blah blah. She had this.  
In the distance she thought she spotted her target. She was leaning against a boulder, the shadows of a cliff covering her features, seeming to scope out the area where a bunch of orcs were cutting down trees. It appeared that they were building a garrison.  
“Naughty girl, trying to ambush them…” Vorona muttered, dismounting her wolf. She gave him a pat on the side, promising to return, before slowly sneaking up to the gnome. Her target got up, stretched a bit, and wandered to a nearby cave. She looked to be examining the minerals kept in the walls. Vorona noted that she kept to the shadows, most likely in an attempt to not be seen. In fact, it made the gnome herself rather hard to see, which in hindsight was most likely a very big problem. At the time she thought nothing of it.   
She slowly crept up on her target, who had stopped to pick at a piece of rock jutting out of the floor. It was then that Vorona lunged, sliding her dagger easily through her back, piercing her heart.  
It wasn’t until the body hit the floor that she realised her mistake.  
“Oh no, that’s not a gnome… that’s a goblin,” she said out loud, in shock. Indeed that miniature spy was in fact… most likely the leader of that garrison being built. “Oh no, oh no, oh no. I messed up.”  
Quickly she began to rifle through her pockets. She found a letter, yet to be sealed, and opened it. It was addressed to the warchief, detailing the construction of the garrison and when she expected it to be finished. The interesting part was the end, where it read,  
Thank you for your time.  
Signed, Vorona Coppergate  
She groaned. It was like she killed her weird blue haired twin. Somehow it made her feel even worse. She looted what gold was on the body, grabbed the letter because she liked the stationary, and shoved the body farther into the depths of the cave. She shoved some snow over her for good measure, and slowly slinked back outside, wondering what her boss would have to say.  
“Oh, boss, there you are,” a voice called to her. She looked up.  
“Huh?” She asked.  
“Vorona, we’ve been looking for you.”  
Suddenly she realised that to anyone who wasn’t a goblin she probably looked pretty darn similar to her accidental victim, both with their bright blue hair in pigtails and blue eyes.  
“Uhh, yeah, just looking at that cave there. It smells kinda funny, I wouldn’t go near it,” she replied, laughing nervously.   
“Do you have that letter for the warchief? We’re about to send Grakthok out with the mail.”  
“Here you go,” she said, handing over the letter which she was now very glad she had grabbed.   
“Excellent. Now I know we all just met you about 20 minutes ago, but I feel like we’re really going to get along. I’ve known these people for a very long time and they’re people we can trust. All we need is a great leader, just like you, Vorona Coppergate. Your exploits as a fury warrior have painted you as quite a hero. Anyways, just wanted to say that I have so much hope for the future,” the orc said, smiling at her, not realising that anything was amiss. “I’ll see you soon. I know you seem a little nervous so come back to the group when you feel ready.”  
Vorona watched the orc’s retreating figure, and immediately collapsed on the ground. Her head spinning, she took some deep breaths and considered the facts.  
Her name was Vorona Irongear. She was an assassination rogue. She just messed up a mission, really bad. She was a nobody who murdered for a living, got drunk in taverns, and picked fights out of boredom. She had just killed a Vorona Coppergate, who was a renowned fury warrior who looked like her and commanded her own little army. Sure some people might be able to see through her disguise, but on the other hand…  
She looked towards the group of orcs, laughing together as they hammered together the wood they had just harvested. A troll was pitching a tent in the corner. A goblin had just arrived, stretching some blueprints out over some rocks. In that instant, everything seemed clear.  
She stood up, brushing off the snow, and made her way back to the group.  
“Hey team!” she shouted, waving at them with a big smile on her face.  
“Commander, welcome back!” Another orc said waving, and the rest gave their small ‘hellos’ and nods of acknowledgement. Things suddenly didn’t seem so bad.  
That night, sitting on a crate in her makeshift tent, the rest of her crew snoring loudly from their own tents, she took out a paper and began to write.  
Dear Borst, you won’t BELIEVE what just happened…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh good lord I completely forgot I was uploading these. 
> 
> Here is the story of my goblin rogue. She was a boosted character, and when I joined my sister's RP/raiding guild (despite the fact I do neither) I had to come up with a backstory. Now, I completely missed what happened to her between about levels 10-90, so I figured out that she just kinda got really drunk a lot and went to a lot of Elite Tauren Chieftain concerts so she doesn't really remember what happened in that time either. This is the story of her beginning to put her life back together.
> 
> PS she has since given up drinking, and if she receives alcohol from her blingtron she dutifully sells it to the nearest vendor. She also seems to have taken up residence in the Dalaran sewers as of late and I guess has become a successful assassin?


End file.
